Gravemind (Or: The Dead Brain)
Slowly, the Master Chief comes to, finding himself in a cavernous chamber, with its walls covered in what seem to be trunk-like creeper vines. A blanket of miasma adds to the eerieness of the scene. The Spartan becomes aware that one of these "vines" has itself wrapped securely around his being, forcing his arms to his sides so that he is unable to move them. He then realizes that what he initially thought were vines are actually tentacles - and they're attached to a massive, thing that appears to be mostly a gaping maw of a mouth, and a small neck and body.
To top it all off, the Spartan's pelvic armor is missing, and his ass currently hurts like innumerable foreign objects had been shoved where the sun doesn't shine. The creature restraining him chuckles, rumbling in a somewhat raspy, basso voice, "was it good for you, too?"
"Ugh...what happened?" the Chief groans, rolling his head around to relieve the stiffness in his neck - apparently, he has been in this rather less-than-comfortable position for awhile.
"I don't think you even want to know, Chief," Cortana deadpans over his helmet speakers. "Trust me on this one. You don't want to know at all."
"Eh, whatever." The Chief nods at the alien being, "so what the hell is this?"
"I? I am the monument to all your sins." With that, two more tentacles descend, restraining a struggling Arbiter. The Sangheili gives the Master Chief a venomous glare and spits, "Demon!"
"Relax," the Spartan growls, "I'd rather not piss this thing off. Plus, I think I have more right to be pissed off - my pants are effectively missing and I've been out for god-knows-how-long. Plus my ass hurts. A lot." Nobody says anything. "I'm dead serious."
"ANAL SEEPAGE! O NOES!" screams a random voice. In reply, there is the loud, booming report of a shotgun that effectively silences the
said random voice. After exchanging confused glances with the Chief and the Arbiter, the creature known as Gravemind (unbeknownst to our.
heroes?) turns its "face" toward the Master Chief and says, "this one is machine and nerve, and has its mind concluded," then it faces the
Arbiter, "this one is but flesh and faith, and is the more deluded."
"Kill me or release me, parasite!" the silver-armored Elite snarls, "SO QUIT YO JIBBA-JABBA, FOO'!"
"There is much talk," Gravemind rumbles, seemingly ignoring the Arbiter's insolence, "and I have listened, through rock and metal and time. Now I shall talk, and you will listen." Yet another tentacle appears, wrapped around a familiar-looking lightbulb - except it glows red, instead of blue.
"Greetings, comrades!" the bot barks jovially in a stereotypical Russian accent, "I am 2401 Penitent Tangent. I am Monitor of Installation 05!"
Yet another tentacle is produced, this one with a familiar Prophet seemingly fused with the tentacle. Regret proclaims, "and I am the Prophet of Regret, Hierarch of the Covenant!" He gives a yelp of pain, probably due to the fact that his very being is being broken down and integrated into Gravemind. All the while, his nervous system is still active and he is very much alive to feel every nanosecond of excruciating pain. But we don't really care about that, do we? Penitent Tangent spots the Master Chief and spouts, "A Reclaimer? Wonderful! We have much to do! We must activate facility in order to contain the Capitalist outbreak!"
"Stay where you are!" Regret protests feebly, "nothing can be done until my sermon is complete!"
"Wrong. This facility has a successful utilization record of 1.2 trillion simulated and one actual. It is ready for firing, so let us be firing it, da?"
"Of all these objects our Lords left behind," Regret whines, "there are none so worthless as these accursed Oracles! They know nothing of the Great Journey!"
"And you know nothing about containment!" Penitent Tangent retorts, "you have demonstrated complete disregard for even the most basic protocols. Fucking noob!"
"STUFFU! I BAN YOU HARD!" The snail lets out an agonized cry.
"This one's containment, and this one's Great Journey are the same," Gravemind lowers the Monitor and the Prophet into the shadows, where Regret's screams can still be heard. "Your Prophets have promised you freedom from a doomed existence, but you will find no salvation on this ring. Those who built this place knew what they wrought - do not mistake their intent, or all will perish as before."
"This thing's right," the Master Chief interjects. "Halo is a weapon - your 'Prophets' are making a big mistake."
"Your ignorance has already destroyed a ring, Demon. I will not let you harm another!"
"Goddammit, open your fucking ears! Oh wait, you don't have any, do you?"
"If you will not hear the truth, then I will show it to you. There is still time to keep the key from turning. But first, it must be found." Gravemind turns to face the Master Chief, then the Arbiter, "you will search one likely spot, and you will search another. Fate had us meet as foes, but this ring will make us brothers!"
The scene fades to black as the two heroes disappear in flashes of golden light.
High Charity is positioned between Delta Halo and the planet it's orbiting. A fierce space battle is already underway, on par with the dazzling and mind-blowing battle over Coruscant in Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith. The space around the gargantuan planetoid is congested with sleek, piscine Covenant vessels firing upon one another, exchanging silvery-blue-white plasma discharges with one another. As the battle has been raging for some time, the shields on most of the ships have been whittled down.
A short distance away, the Perdition's Flame and its fleet have taken up a defensive formation, and the massive mothership continues to lob powerful, thermonuclear warheads at the enemy, causing massive amounts of damage to the bunched-up Covenant ships. Luckily, for the small flotilla, the Covenant and the ex-Covenant forces are so intent on killing each other, they fail to notice the Perdition's Flame and its relatively small retinue. Any ships that do approach are immediately cut to ribbons by powerful ion cannons and blown apart by missiles. Any Covenant Seraphs that approach are blasted into oblivion by the heavy energy pulse cannon turrets on the capital ships. The four squads of ZGMF-1017 GINNs float around the ships, providing close-in protection, especially against enemy fighters.
Backing up the Perdition's Flame and its fleet are a few battle barges of the Adeptus Astartes Chapter, the Ultramarines. Accompanying the venerable Space Marines are a few frigates belonging to the Navy of the Imperium of Man, each with a company of Imperial Guardsmen aboard along with their armored units. Imperial naval fighters stand by as the battle-scarred ships level a withering barrage of lascannon and artillery fire against what they've deemed "the unholy xeno scum".
Looking at the massive battle raging around High Charity, it's easy to see how and why a heavily-armed and shielded Republic Gunship still manages to slip into the massive planetoid. Dodging stray lascannon and plasma bolts, along with missiles and rockets, the crew manages to navigate through the chaotic war zone and blast a way through a rather convenient weak spot (one of many, probably) in High Charity's defenses.
The gunship swiftly makes its way through the carnage and finally arrives near its objective. Even the anti-air defenses within the city are occupied, as the Elites and Brutes go head-to-head with each other. At a large structure, a mob of Grunts and Jackals charge up the steps leading to the building's entrance, but are kept at bay by a handful of Brutes armed with staffs. One of the Brutes smashes a Jackal's cranium into the deck, then swings the weapon around to hit some more of the marauders.
A sudden, uncomfortable gust of wind catches the aliens' attention.
Eyes turn toward the distinct rumbling-humming of the gunship's engine as it hovers overhead. They only get a brief glimpse of the tiger-shark design painted on the craft's nose before a veritable hellstorm of laser fire and rockets wipe out the Brutes and the entire mob. The gunship's thruster-wash kicks up minute dust particles as it touches down and unloads its passengers.
"We'll be hanging around and keeping out of trouble," the pilot says. "Radio us when you have the Author. Good hunting!"
"Acknowledged. Thanks, Pilot," Delta Three-Eight replies as he hops out along with the rest of Delta Squad. Accompanying the commandos are Samus Aran (back in her power armor); Link (and Navi, unfortunately); an Advanced Reconnaissance Commando clone trooper; and a pair of Ultramarines, both armed to the teeth with their trademark bolter guns and sheathed shortswords. The two fanatical super-soldiers of the Imperium of Mankind tower over the rest of the rescue team, standing at roughly two meters tall.
With the ARC trooper being the last to step off, the team advances on the structure as the gunship ascends into the air and flies off.
"Omega, we need you to do your thing," Three-Eight addresses the ARC trooper. Wordlessly, the ARC clone trooper moves on ahead with his DC-17 blaster carbine at the ready. The commandos follow, with Samus, Link, and the Space Marines bringing up the rear.
Inside, Truth is reclining in his hover-chair before a webcam, doffing his robes in a manner he thinks is "seductive", whilst giving a speech. All the while, his subordinates are turning green in the face, resisting the strong urge to regurgitate their previous meal.
"We are, all of us, greatly concerned...the release of the parasite was unexpected, unfortunate. But there is no need to panic...In truth, this is a time to rejoice! A moment that all the Covenant should savor! For the Sacred Icon has been found. With it, our path is clear - our entry into the Divine Beyond guaranteed! The Great Journey is nigh, and nothing, not even the Flood, can stop it!"
Golden, incandescent light appears before the webcam and the Master Chief appears in a bright flash. Grunts soil their suits while the Brutes take a moment to register this new information in their minds. The green-clad Spartan cocks his helmeted head to one side and says "boo!" in a low voice to Truth. The wrinkly snail, in turn, lets out a horrible, falsetto, girly shriek as the Brute honor guards flanking him lower their ceremonial staff weapons to block the Chief's path to the Hierarch.
"KILL THE DEMON!" Faster than you could say "kill the demon!", the Prophet disappears down a grav-lift, leaving the Brute guards to deal with the Master Chief. Said Brute guards start foaming at the mouth and paw at the ground, lowering their heads all the while. "Brutes!" Cortana told the Chief. "The faster you can kill them, the better. They don't have shields, but you'd better take them out before..." the Brutes bay for the Chief's blood before bull-charging him, "...they're berserking!"
"Crap." The Spartan dodges, taking advantage of his better agility. One of the Brutes charges headlong into a wall, knocking itself out and even fracturing its helmet. The Chief doesn't get to admire the large indentation left in the alloyed bulkhead, however, since the other Brute continues to hound him. Like a possessed beast, the Brute gallops around the room, snarling, salivating, charging at the Master Chief again and again.
Tartarus's voice suddenly bellows over the intercom, "intruder in the council chamber! Protect the Hierarchs! Seal all exits!"
Suddenly, more snarling Brutes appear.
"Crap on a crap cracker!" the Chief decides he's had enough of this and rips a fart.
It does nothing.
"The flatulence! It does nothing!" the dispirited Spartan cries. Briefly, he wonders why his legendary poo-gas was having no lethal effects on his adversaries. Seeing the four Brutes closing in on him convinced the Chief to ask the author at next opportunity. If either of them survived long enough.
By some stroke of luck, the exit suddenly opens and a small device is tossed into the room. Automatically, the Chief averts his eyes. An extremely loud "POP!" is accompanied by a blinding flash. The Brutes stumble and trip over themselves, dazed and disoriented by the flashbang detonator.
A second after the device goes off, the clone commados storm into the room, firing at the Brutes. A familiar, orange-armored figure and another familiar character both charged into the chamber. The former looses a missile against one of the Brutes, throwing the beast against a bulkhead with enough force to elicit a sickening "crunch!" The latter rapidly looses two arrows into a Brute's eyes, effectively performing a grisly lobotomy.
The other two simian/elephantine aliens are almost as quickly downed by automatic blaster fire and bolter rounds, the latter having rather messy results.
"Master Chief," Samus Aran nods at the Spartan.
"What're you all doing here?" the Chief queries, picking up a dead Brute's discarded plasma rifle. "And who're these guys?"
"The author sent us here to rendezvous with you before we all move on to save his sorry ass."
"How did he...?"
"He just knew," Link interrupts. "C'mon, it's jail-breaking time!" The Hero of Time heads for the door they had just come in through, as Samus gestures to the clones, "to answer your second question, these four are clone commandos. The other guy is a one-man army. The two big guys are...friends...of the Author's." The Chief looks over his new allies for a brief moment before returning his attention to the bounty hunter.
"What's the short version?"
"That was the short version."
"Oh."
With that, the merry band makes their way through the bowels of the ship, slaughtering all who oppose them, until they come upon the detention block. On a catwalk, they huddle just outside the door they're about to enter.
"All right, Chief. Everyone. We need to get those Marines out. Quietly." Everyone arches an eyebrow at Cortana's instructions.
"Cortana," Samus says, "you do realize that none of the weapons in this universe come with suppressors, right?"
"We're the only ones equipped for quiet operations," Three-Eight points out. "But the sniper configuration isn't exactly the best for close quarters."
"And I wouldn't fancy tackling one of those Brutes with just a blade," Four-Zero adds, nodding in agreement.
"I bet I could do it," Zero-Seven growls. The commando fidgets, tightening his hold on his DC-17M carbine.
"I'd like to see you try, Sev," Six-Two snorts disbelievingly. "They're almost as strong as wookies."
"Cut the chatter, you two lovebirds," the Chief cuts in. "Here's what we'll do. First, we'll need to do a bit of recon and see how many Brutes are in each detention wing. From there, we can either use some of those flashbang grenades before rushing them and killing them quickly, or we can hang back and pick them off. The problem with both is that we'll probably be crowded together, and the Covenant aren't against using heavy explosives in a close-quarters environment."
"I'm for rushing," Sev says. The Space Marines nod in agreement, as do Link and Navi, although it's difficult to see in the fairy's case. The Chief asks, "okay, so who's up for hanging back?" Fixer and Boss each raise a gloved hand, while Scorch shrugs, "I don't care. As long as I get to blow stuff up." The ARC trooper remains silent and alert, glancing around at their surroundings.
"You know," Aran cuts in, "we could do a combination of both."
"'Both?'" Link echoes.
"Yeah." The bounty hunter explains, "have some of us hold the door and take potshots while the rest mix it up with the Brutes - up-close and personal, if necessary."
"Good idea," Three-Eight nods. "That way we'll have secured an escape route from the place. But the ones holding the door'll have to be careful, and they might not even be able to fire without accidentally hitting the people who're engaging the Brutes."
"We could probably hold the door," Scorch proffers. Sev snorts in response, "like they'd trust you to give them cover fire?"
"Hey, it's not like I can't hit the broad side of a hangar!"
"Enough!" the Chief snaps. "Delta squad will hold the door. The rest of us will secure the immediate wing while we search for Marines and the Author." Everyone nods in assent.
They breach the first jail cell. The charge is led by the two Space Marines, who blaze away with their bolters and roar, "for the Emperor!" Since the narrow walkway between the cells slopes downward from the entrance, this gives the commandos a good field of fire. In mere seconds, the Ultramarines effectively disembowel the Brute guards with a hail of bolter fire, splattering gore and viscera onto the walls. A few shots from the "sniper-configured" DC-17Ms ensure that the Brutes are dead, filling the air with the stench of burning fur and meat.
"The xeno filth have been purged from this area," one of the Space Marines report over his helm's vox unit.
Wordlessly pressing past the two soldier-fanatics, the Chief locates the controls to the shield barriers keeping the cells sealed and powers the shields down with his inexplicably intuitive knowledge of the alien technology. The glowing, purple barriers fizzle out of existence, and a squad of UNSC Marines exit their cells.
"Freedom! It smells so sweet!" one of them cheers as he picks up a Covenant Carbine.
"Let's go rob a liquor store on the way home!" another says as he arms himself with a Needler. The rest of the freed Marines pick up whatever weapons they can find and follow the rescue team outside, back onto the catwalk they were on prior to breaching the door.
"There's another group on the floor above," Cortana radioes, "also, the Covenant have inexplicably been alerted to your presence, so watch out for enemy patrols." Just as the AI finishes, a bright lance of energy strikes down one of the UNSC Marines, making a neat hole through the unfortunate human's head.
"So much for stealth," Scorch comments dryly. Nobody replies as Zero-Seven shoots the Jackal sniper. Brutes and Jackals descend through the same gravity lifts the team had utilized earlier, and they look none too happy. The UNSC Marines open fire, hurling insults and taunts in addition to their rain of Needler, Carbine, and plasma fire. The clone commandos hold their fire as the Space Marines open up with their powerful bolters. Unable to cope with the massive barrage, the phalanx of shield-wielding Jackals capitulates before the withering barrage.
The Brutes shove aside the Jackals and charge toward their opponents in a mad rush.
A Brute manages to close with one of the Ultramarines before getting its skull blown off, cerebral grey matter and bone fragments showering the other Brutes. It does nothing to slow them down, however - it only drives them to greater heights of bestial rage. One of the UNSC Marines is torn in half, and the screaming upper portion of the hapless human is thrown into the abyss, screaming: "I regret nothing! I've lived as few men dare to dream!"
One of the Adeptus Astartes is knocked off his feet as a Brute blind-sides the super-soldier. A few other Brutes descend like scavenging beasts, wailing away at the Space Marine's ancient, ceramite, powered armor. Link takes a slash at one of the Brutes in an effort to assist the downed Ultramarine, but it only infuriates his target. "Watch out!" Navi screeches. The Brute tackles the Hero of Time and is only stopped by a concussive missile blast that sends the beast flying over the catwalk's edge and into the depths.
Samus Aran hurls herself at one of the Brutes and manages to knock it off the downed Space Marine. Without missing a beat, the bounty hunter gives the beast a heavy face-full of armcannon before effectively burning its head down to the bone with her plasma beam. The Space Marine manages to overpower his opponent, slashing open the Brute's neck with his shortsword. The Marine then severs the alien's head before scrabbling to his feet, looking for a new target.
There aren't any, for the moment.
The rest of the Brutes had been gunned down by the others - however, not without the latter sustaining casualties and injuries. The ARC trooper, Omega, appears to be favoring a bruised ribcage. Only a third of the UNSC Marines remain, a few having been cast down into the foggy depths of the abyss below them.
Samus is already heading up the grav-lift, with the clone commandos right behind her. The Space Marines move to secure the area around the lift as the UNSC Marines and Link (yes, and Navi) take the grav-lifts up to the next floor. When Link finally ascends, the Space Marines follow, finding the others waiting before their next objective.
"Same plan as last time?" the Master Chief asks. Everyone gives their non-verbal assent. Once the door is breached, a flashbang is thrown in before the Master Chief and the Space Marines charge into the detention wing, followed by Samus and Link. A Brute captain rubs at his eyes, whining, "dude, what the hell? What the hell was that? That sucked!" A few bolter shots to the head silence his complaints. With the two Space Marines watching his back, the Chief deactivates the cell shields.
"Found him!" Link calls. From his cell, the author lumbers out into the walkway, still clad in his crimson MJOLNIR Mk V armor.
"Thanks for the rescue," the author says earnestly. "I was beginning to wonder if you guys had gotten lost."
"We should get moving," the Chief suggests. The author snaps his fingers and a holstered Smith & Wesson M500 revolver appears on his belt, and an SVD Dragunov materializes in his hands. Samus arches an eyebrow, "I've been wondering, Author, you're supposed to be like a god on this plane of existence. Why didn't you just teleport yourself out of captivity, instead of having us come in to bail your ass out?"
"And frankly," the Chief interjects, "how could you be writing this story while being jailed?"
"To answer the Chief's question," the author gestures to himself, "this is merely an avatar. I can still write, but if anything happens to my avatar, there won't be much I could do. Although I usually try to keep him out of deadly situations, I still make mistakes."
"You said you couldn't do much," Link queries, "whaddya mean?"
"What most younger/newer authors seem to fail to realize is that every time we interfere with a universe, things get screwed up. A lot of them just pull things out of their asses, defying logic and the established rules within a universe, and this often results in the universe getting really screwed up." Everyone stares at him with blank expressions. "For example, if someone made too many changes in this universe, it could wind up being like a stereotypical LSD trip." More silence.
"You, sir," the Chief finally says, "have just blown my mind."
"I was always horrible at explaining things," the author sighs.
"So basically, you're limited to what you can do on this plane, otherwise you could wind up destroying it?" Samus asks.
"Exactly!" the author beams, "you win a cookie!"
"Joy," the bounty hunter deadpans. Crazy nutjob. A nice nutjob, but still a crazy nutjob.
"That aside, my being captured was vital to the plot."
"Um...how?" Aran asks.
"Let's move on. I'll explain as we go. Three-Eight, contact our ride, would you? Tell them we'll meet them at..." he pauses for a moment before reciting a string of coordinates.
"Yes, sir!"
The group continues onward to freedom, as the author attempts to explain certain things to Samus.
"I think I get it," she says. "The whole point of your being captured was to make a subtle jab at some of the authors on
"I was being subtle?" the author asks. Samus chuckles, despite herself. "I know," he says, "I'm a nutter."
"It's kind of witty, so I wouldn't say you're a complete whack-job."
"I would," the Master Chief mutters.
"I heard that." The author threatens, "another insult like that and I'll make you wear the 'Girly Grif' shirt!" With that, the author holds up a large, orange t-shirt with the following on the front in bold, white text: "I JUST WANT EVERYONE TO KNOW THAT I'M A GIRL, AND I LIKE TO WEAR RIBBONS IN MY HAIR, AND I WANT TO KISS ALL THE BOYS!" Tennis ball-sized sweatdrops appear on everyone's head and/or helmet.
"I'll be good." the Spartan says. The author cackles to himself as Samus shakes her head.
"I take that back. You are a complete whack-job," she murmurs.
Much slaughtering and loss of the UNSC Marines, later, the group finally arrives at a platform with one of those weird, one-way grav bridges.
"Ooh...I've always wanted to see what it was actually like to be on one of these things," the author says eagerly.
"Is it safe?" Four-Zero inquires.
"As long as you don't try to get back on, at the end. You'll just fall through. I don't know why that happened," the author holds his helmet as he would his chin, spacing out for a moment. "Oh well. Let's-a go!" The author hops on and starts flying toward the other side. "Whoosh!" he cries out jubilantly.
"Here goes," Scorch says before hopping on. With a loud "WHEEEEEEEEEEEE!" the clone commando follows the author. Sev shakes his helmeted head as he hops on with Fixer and Boss. Samus and Link follow, with the Ultramarines bringing up the rear. Just as they make it to the other side, the In Amber Clad roars overhead before crashing into the inner walls of High Charity.
"I have a bad feeling about this," Cortana says. "Also, the Covenant have destroyed at least two of their own ships. And there's small arms fire all throughout the fleet."
All the while, Truth continues to broadcast religious prattle, and Tartarus orders his Brutes to rise up and cast down the Elites, encouraging them to sodomize the Elites for some reason.
"This isn't good," Cortana says again, "I'm getting reports of Flood spreading throughout High Charity."
A Pelican full of Flood zombies suddenly crashes into the building, and the combat forms spill out. Some of them spot our fearless crew and let out a blood-curdling screech.
"What in the name of the Primarch are those things?" one of Ultramarines ask, his bolter already at the ready.
"Less talky, more shooty!" the author says as he puts a shot right into a combat form's chest. The bullet passes clean through the rotting flesh and pops the infection pod within. With that, everyone opens up on the abominations, amid the zombies' screams of "HAX!" and "OMG NICE AIMBOT U NOOBS!"
Link draws his sword, but Samus's gauntleted hand grips his shoulder, "no. Hit them from a distance. You really don't wanna get hit by those tthings." Reluctantly, the Hero of Time sheathes his blade and instead takes up his bow and arrows.
When the last of the zombies are dispatched, they turn to find one of the Ultramarines clawing at his neck, choking sounds and cries of pain emanating from his helmet's vox speaker. His battle-brother looks on in confusion, "what ails you, Brother?" The others also watch with bemused expressions, except for the author and the Chief.
The former has his Dragunov leveled with the suffering Space Marine's head, while the latter holds a plasma grenade in hand and has his plasma rifle trained on the Space Marine's torso.
"What're you two doing?" Samus inquires uneasily.
"He's been infected by a Flood infection form," the author replies, his rifle unwavering. "Check for yourself."
Samus does a quick scan with her suit's scan-visor and her eyes widen at the report from her gunship's AI.
"So what do we do?" she asks.
"Kill him before he's subverted by the infection form," the Master Chief answers.
"What is this?" the other Space Marine demands, moving himself between the author and his fellow Ultramarine. "Are you betraying us?"
"We're trying to save all our asses! So move!"
"Wait...so what'll happen once the infection form takes over?" Three-Eight asks the author.
"If it gains control of this Space Marine, we can all kiss our asses good-bye."
At a handsignal from their Boss, the Deltas reconfigure their DC-17Ms into anti-armor setups before aiming the weapons at the convulsing Space Marine. Reluctantly, the Ultramarine moves away from his comrade and aims his bolter at him. "May you continue to serve the Emperor as one of His warrior angels."
The Ultramarine-turned-Flood suddenly leaps at its former comrade, knocking the Ultramarine down before lunging at the author. The author pours half of his magazine before the weapon is torn from his grip and he is slammed in the gut by the heavy, gauntleted fist of the combat form. He sails through the air and slams into the deck just as the Deltas open up. The salvo of grenades barely fazes the Space Marine. Samus unloads five missiles at once into the combat form, managing to blow off its head. Of course, this does nothing, so the creature rams her and knocks her over and for a good meter or two.
The Ultramarine suddenly tackles the combat form from behind with blade in hand, burying the weapon into the thing's neck in an attempt to strike at its heart. However, it does very little, and the Space Marine is hurled away, as if the ceramite armor weighed no more than a pillow. Just as the Space Marine hits the deck, the combat form is hit by another salvo of grenades, supplemented by a barrage of missiles from Samus.
"How the hell do we kill this thing?" she screams at nobody in particular.
"We have to destroy the infection pod in its chest," the author gasps as he slowly joins her. He draws his revolver and fires at the ceramite chest plate. The fifty-caliber round merely fractures the winged skull emblem embossed on the armor. The following two shots yield the same results, with little to no effect against the combat form. Abruptly, the combat form turns on the clone commandos, making the author's last two shots impact against the ceramite-armored back. He curses as he reloads.
Zero-Seven and Four-Zero are knocked off their feet, while Six-Two is sent flying. Three-Eight stands his ground, peppering the abomination with blaster bolts. The ARC commando and Link pelt it from behind in an attempt to draw its attention.
They succeed.
The thing turns toward them and charges before swinging at them. Link manages to raise his shield, but the inhumanly strong combat form winds up smashing the Hylian shield into pieces, as well as breaking the hero's arm. The ARC trooper leaps up and over the combat form and strikes it from behind with the butt of his blaster carbine. He might have just tried tickling the thing with a feather, given the apparent lack of a reaction. The combat form whirls around, sweeping the ARC trooper's feet out from under him. Laying on his back, the ARC trooper can only watch as the combat form prepares to pummel him into the next life.
Suddenly, a purple beam of electricity strikes the combat form's exposed neck, zapping the thing and killing the infection form inside. The decapitated body hits the deck with a loud clatter of ceramite on metal. All eyes turn toward Samus, who lowers her cooling arm cannon. The author gives her a thumbs-up, "I forgot about those missile combos."
"I'm starting to run low," the bounty hunter sighs. "Let's hurry up and get back to your ship so I can recharge."
"I love you," the Chief says, staring at Aran with admiration. The bounty hunter gives an uncharacteristically girly giggle and squeals, "hooray! Let's go on a date and grab some dinner, and..."
The author sighs and he checks up on Delta squad.
After patching each other up, the team regroups and heads for the landing pad where Truth, Mercy, and Tartarus are departing. For some odd reason, they manage to catch up just as Miranda Keyes and Sergeant Johnson are loaded aboard. Flood infection pods skitter toward the Covenant, but most of them are eliminated by the Brutes and their awesome stomping skills.
Except one.
A Flood infection form manages to leap onto Mercy's neck and starts trying to worm its way into the Prophet's wrinkly neck. Tartarus makes to forcefully remove the parasite, but Truth stops him. "Let him be! The Great Journey waits for no one, brother," the Hierarch lisps coldly, "Not even you." Tartarus reluctantly follows the Hierarch aboard the waiting Phantom and the dropship escapes just as the group makes it to the dying Mercy.
"Rose...bud..." the wrinkly snail croaks.
"Your pal, Truth," the Chief demands of the Hierarch, "where's he off to?"
"Earth," the Prophet groans, "to finish what we started. And this time...none of you will...be...left...behind..." The Hierarch passes on with a "HURK! BLAAAHHHH!"
"That structure in the center," Cortana says, "it's a Forerunner ship. And Truth's dropship is heading right for it. We have to stop him!"
The Republic Gunship arrives; the clone commandos, Samus, the author, Link, and the Ultramarine board the ship.
"Chief," the author radioes, "We're going to stop Tartarus from activating the Halo!"
"Why do you care?" the Chief queries. "It's not like you'd actually be affected!"
"So you want to die? Cheer up, emo kid!" The author waves as the gunship lifts off, "good luck, Chief. I have a frigate standing by to drop off a mobile suit for you."
With that, the red-armored Sazabi drops onto the deck before the Chief, flattening Mercy's body, along with the Infection pod.
"Let's get this party started," the Chief says, rubbing his gloved hands together in glee.
To Be Continued...
Author's Note: Yeeeeaaaaahhhhh. I hope I can make things a little more humorous. Or blatantly humorous? Meh. I've also noticed an increase in flubs and stuff in my writing, especially in the previous chapter. This sort of thing happened with my previous parody, as well. How frustrating. Also, keeps cutting stuff out, like the ellipses (the three dots: "...") I had in the part where the combat form was talking to the author. So if you were wondering what the hell that was about...yeah. In-between the combat form's lines were the author's (or the avatar's) reaction of stunned silence. Their text-editing stuff sucks. Blah.
Anyway...hope this chapter was enjoyable. I think it's the longest one, so far. Anyway, this is the second to the last chapter, I think. I don't know if I'll bother with a bonus chapter at the end to serve as a sort of epilogue, this time.
Tiger Tank
